


Lost and Found

by theotherme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Fashion Designer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Memory Loss, Paris (City), more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherme/pseuds/theotherme
Summary: Harry's been obliviated and lost the past six months like it was nothing. Draco's going to fight for their relationship.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

“Harry!”

No response. The man probably got called out like that more times than he could count per day. He just kept walking, head down, Auror robes swishing behind him.

“ _ Potter! _ ” That stopped him. Turning in what Draco could only describe as disbelief, Harry faced him. His mouth was wide, eyebrows scraping his hairline, but his eyes had long-suffered wariness mingled in with the disbelief. Draco supposed that shouldn’t sting as much as it did, given what Harry thought the current circumstances were, so he brushed his feelings aside. 

“Malfoy? Everything alright?” Harry hadn’t moved any closer to him on the busy sidewalk; they were perhaps two meters apart at most. Draco noticed his right hand straying near his wand holster on his thigh but not making any serious moves to grab for it. He figured that would be the best opening he’d get. 

“No Ha-Potter. We need to talk.” At Harry’s brows still raised, no move to do anything but watch Draco, he huffed. “ _ Privately. _ ” 

After another brief appraisal, Harry walked off, motioning with a jerk of his head that Draco was to follow. He restrained any and all further forms of sass that he remembered Harry had once listed out for him, including but not limited to: eye-rolling, huffing aggressively, sighing dramatically, and tapping his foot. He followed in his best meek behavior, hoping it would make Harry a bit more amenable to him. It had worked the last time, but there were other factors involved so Draco still felt like he was casting blindly. Harry led them around the corner into an alleyway and threw up several wandless Auror-grade muffling and look-away spells with a wave of his hand and a few quiet murmurs. Draco tried to ignore the memories that followed, unbidden, of the other things those fingers could-  _ had- _ done. Harry looked back at him in surprise and Draco thought he’d been caught out, that Harry actually could read minds as he had once been suspicious of, before the other things that happened. 

“You’re not surprised that I can do wandless magic.” It wasn’t a question, despite Harry’s surprise that was slowly fading into deep suspicion. Of course Draco wasn’t surprised  _ now _ , I mean he might have been at first but that’s entirely up to perspective, Draco’s being that he wasn’t surprised. In fact, Harry should have known that if he-.

“How was Paris?” Draco asked instead. It was apparently the wrong thing to ask because suddenly Draco had Auror-red surrounding his peripherals and a very angry Harry Potter pressing his left forearm into the base of Draco’s neck against the building, his right hand holding his wand that was steadily pointed at Draco. And while that should have been his higher priority, all Draco could think about was that no, Harry had not lied to him. He had sort of wished this would have been the one lie Harry told him, a bit of a nasty prank but at least partially forgivable after a certain amount of groveling and servitude. But no, here Harry was, pressing his neck into the side of a building on the edge of Wizarding London with such a look of suspicion and anger written across his face that Draco had no other choice but to believe that conversation Draco had tried so hard to forget. Harry on the other hand was getting a bit impatient with Draco’s silence, the arm pressing a little deeper than necessary.

“How do you know about Paris, Malfoy.” Again, another not-question. It seemed Auror Potter was keen on them. It did make him sound more intimidating, the whole demanding an answer, not asking part. Draco just thought it was a bit hot, but again, not the thing to be focused on at the moment. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a steadying breath, as steadying as he could despite the forearm slowly cutting off his air supply, that is. 

“I was with you in Paris.” He said simply. Harry smirked in cruel disbelief.

“Cute. Pull the other one.” Okay that stung. He wasn’t that bad when Harry first met him. A bit poky around the edges perhaps, but Harry had rounded him out and he was definitely better now than before. This Harry was actually receiving the far nicer version of Draco than the first Harry had. He simply stared at Harry, revealing none of his pain, but also not backing down from his statement. Harry’s smirk fell. He dropped the limbs around Draco.

“You’re serious aren’t you? You were with me in Paris?” Draco swallowed and nodded. “Aren’t you not supposed to tell me? What the hell Malfoy? You know that once one of these types of missions are over, we’re not supposed to meet again under any circumstances. You shouldn’t even remember me! I sure as hell don’t remember you!” Knowing that Harry didn’t remember him was one thing, but hearing the man he’d somehow grown fond of which had in turn somehow morphed into  _ love _ , not that he’d ever let  _ anyone _ know, present company included, say the very words Draco had never wanted to hear stabbed something deeper than he could have imagined. 

“Ha-Potter.” Harry looked at him. “I wasn’t working with you in Paris. I was living there. I’ve been living there for the past eight or so years.” Harry’s eyebrows once again flipped the bird to gravity.

“So what? You were living in Paris while I was there and we became friends? I don’t really think I’d jeopardize a mission over a chance friendship, Malfoy. I knew I’d have to have my memory wiped so I would never look to an actual relationship with someone.” Draco swallowed again as the doubt wriggled up his throat. Harry was right and Draco had never understood why Harry did what he did. But Draco had made a decision. He was going to do what he came here for. 

“I believe you thought I was ‘up to something,’ as you graciously pointed out the first time we met.” Harry’s ears went red, and he strongly looked like he wanted to duck his head away. Draco so missed the first time Harry had looked like that, for an entirely different purpose and in an entirely different set of circumstances. At least that one ended in him getting properly shagged by one of the fittest men he’d ever known.

“I’m sure I had a reason,” Harry mumbled out, still not looking Draco in the eye. 

“I believe your ‘reason’ was that I happened to be in the same city as the top-secret mission you were on. My presence amongst two odd million other people was  _ definitely _ suspicious.” Draco hadn’t meant to tease Harry, what with his ears rivaling Weasley hair and a similar flush rising up his neck. Nope, Draco was resolutely  _ not _ going to think about the other times he’d seen that flush. 

“Well seeing as how we turned out friends, I’m assuming I was wrong?” At first Draco thought the question innocent enough, but before he went to answer, he realized there was a hopeful tone to Harry’s voice. Would Draco actually be able to accomplish his goal? He’d settle for friends. He knew he would. But he couldn’t let Harry go without telling him the truth. 

“We ended up a bit more than friends actually.” Draco said quietly. Harry blinked, confused. Then, in what Draco supposed was divine intervention, he watched the pieces fit together in Harry’s head as Harry understood what Draco had tried to imply. Harry took a step back, anger suddenly clouding his features.

“ _ Sorry? _ ” His embarrassed demeanor was gone and he was immediately on edge again, right hand gracing his thigh. He was breathing hard and Draco was shocked at the immediate flip in attitude. 

“Erm, is that an issue with me specifically or with men in general?”

“A bit of both really!” Harry was a bit hysterical, his eyes shone and his breathing became even more erratic. “I’m not even bent!” Now Draco was confused. 

“But,  _ you _ made the first move on me!” He exclaimed. Draco was very confused. Harry had met him no more than a week after he’d arrived in Paris. How had he gone from straight to not-completely-straight to making moves on Draco in that short amount of time?

“You’re lying. Honestly Malfoy, if you really wanted to convince me, you shouldn’t have kept going. If anything, I was probably trying to befriend you and you took it way out of context.”

“We spent all of our free time together.”

“As  _ friends _ .”

“You held my hand.”

“Probably an accident.”

“You were the one who called our first outing a ‘date’ even after I rejected the idea.”

“... I was probably drunk.”

“It was three in the afternoon at an outdoor cafe. It might be Paris, and I for sure enjoyed a glass of wine with my meal, but you said you were ‘on the clock’ which I’ve learned means that you were working.” Harry stared at him, his breathing normal but eyes tightening at Draco’s words. 

“I took you out on a date to an outdoor cafe in Paris while I was supposed to be working.” Harry just looked at him and Draco started to fidget under the intensity. “Did I kiss you during the dates or after?”

“Well, I assumed you were doing your job and dating me at the same time. Although you never told me exactly what you were doing, you did keep steady eye-contact on the empty building across the street.” Draco paused, thinking. “Actually you seemed to do that for most of our dates in the beginning. We’d spend hours talking but you’d always glance behind me at regular intervals. And, yes. You kissed me sometimes during the dates. It caught me quite by surprise the first time. I thought it was an accident but you looked very smug.” He quickly refocused his gaze back to Harry who, alarmingly, was turning a bit green. Draco backtracked immediately. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, I didn’t know you hadn’t accepted or I guess discovered that part of yourself yet. I would never have willingly brought this up and put you into such an uncomfortable position if I had known.” Draco gathered himself up, ready to leave this nightmare of a mess. Harry grabbed his arm. 

“I didn’t kiss you as a cover, did I? I didn’t just use our dates as an excuse to stakeout in the open instead of undercover? I didn’t  _ use _ you, did I?” This seemed to be very important to Harry. His grip was firm and he stared so intensely with such  _ guilt _ in his eyes. Draco was a bit floored. Harry, it seemed, had always been like this. 

“Perhaps at first, maybe, I think you’re right about the stakeouts, but I’d like to think we got along well outside your work as well.” Harry didn’t seem to hear him.

“Oh  _ God _ , Malfoy! I can’t believe I was such an arse. We may not have gotten along in school but that’s over the line. I’m so sorry Malfoy. I’m so sorry I led you on like that. I mean, I _ kissed _ you in the middle of a date out of nowhere probably because someone got suspicious that I’d been staring for too long and I-” Draco couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Harry, you most certainly did not lead me on. Our first kiss might not have been with the best of intentions, but what we had for the next six months was real and quite possibly the most cherished moments of my life thus far. There is no doubt in my mind, not anymore. I’m sorry that you’re not ‘out’ yet or however you called it, but I didn’t know that. I’m sorry I’ve forced you into an uncomfortable situation, and I should probably just obliviate you again for good measure.” Harry stared at him, either in uncomprehension or unwillingness to accept what Draco’d said, he wasn’t sure.

“Malfoy, I should be the one obliviating you here. I’ve put you through so much and now you’re back in London where I know you don't want to be solely to come after me and unfortunately I’m straight and I’m so so-”

“ _ No.  _ No obliviating.” Draco was backing away until his back hit the wall. Harry, for his part, immediately looked concerned even if Draco didn’t notice. “No obliviating. I know you don’t remember, but you  _ promised me _ . You promised you would never obliviate me. You- you tried to break up with me. A few days before you left. We had the worst argument we’ve ever had and then I broke down and begged you not to leave and then you told me what would  _ actually _ happen once you left and not only were you leaving me you were going to  _ forget _ me too and I couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“You offered to obliviate me and that just set me off. How could you want me to forget the happiest days of my miserable existence, Harry? How could you be willing to give it all up? I know you’re an honest man and I know you care about the integrity of your job, but I thought we meant so much more.” He took a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm himself down and looked at Harry. His eyes were just lost, darting around Draco’s face, trying his hardest to remember. “You knelt on the floor of my apartment and promised me that you wouldn’t obliviate me, and that you wouldn’t let yourself forget me. You said it with such conviction and you wouldn’t let me go all night. We were so good for the next few days.” Draco laughed a desperate and bitter cry. “And then I woke up alone, the spot next to me cold, and you never came back to me.” 

Harry just stared at him some more. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he shut it again without anything coming out. He waited for Draco’s breathing to even out before speaking. 

“Malfoy,  _ Draco _ , I’m so sorry. I don’t know how real my intentions were with you but I’m so sorry regardless of what you’ve gone through. And you even came back to find me? I’m sorry but you must have known how difficult that would have been. What prompted you to do that?” Now Draco fidgeted aimlessly, unwilling to meet Harry’s gaze. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the device, possessively running his thumb along the side in sure motions. It was small and rectangular and Harry recognized it immediately. 

“That’s my phone,” he said dumbly. “I thought the Ministry took it away after my mission so I ended up buying a new one.” Draco looked down at the phone he was cradling like it was his most prized possession. 

“You left it with me. The morning I woke up, it was laid on the pillow next to me. That’s how I knew you weren’t coming back. At first I was so mad I wanted to throw it away, but your picture in the front said it was for me. It said I was supposed to give this back to you. I tried to unlock it but it seems you changed the passcode.” He held it out to Harry as if he really didn’t want to let it go. Harry took it from him gently and looked at the lock screen. Written in what looked like a screenshot of the notes app, Harry read:

_ Draco,  _

_ I’m sorry I’m leaving like a coward. I just didn’t think I’d be able to let you go if I waited until you woke up. If the Ministry found out about us, they’d obliviate you too, and you know what I promised. So I got an idea. I was originally planning on taking this with me, but I’m guessing all my belongings will be confiscated for processing once I’m back in London. I know you’re loath to go after all this time, honestly I understand why at this point, but I have one last request that you are allowed to ignore and I won’t ever blame you for it. Bring this back to me. Explain what happened. There might be some resistance, but don’t forget to give me this back. It will be the most you can ever do, and I’m sorry but from then on it’ll be up to me. _

_ I love you, _

_ Harry _

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked up at Draco who was trying very hard not to fidget. Who was this man? He certainly wasn’t the boy he’d known from childhood. Who was this man that he had somehow fallen in love with in the span of six months so deeply enough to convince him to return to the place that hated him most in the world just to return a measly cell phone? 

“Well, I’ll be going now.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, suddenly afraid Draco was going to disappear without giving him time to think, but the man put his hand up. “I’m staying in a hotel in Muggle London. My cell number should still be on there, hopefully. If you don’t contact me by the end of the week, I’ll understand. I’ll leave back to Paris and you won’t ever hear from me again.” He shrugged, looking stunningly once more like the scared, lost, seventeen year old boy Harry had once known. “I’m sorry again for bringing this up. I just didn’t want to lose you without a fight. You were big on me fighting for myself.” He smiled softly like he was remembering something. Something that Harry had said to him. He was at a loss. Draco let out a breath of air and straightened his clothes. Their tussle had mussed him up a bit and Harry was interestingly a bit sad to see the slightly disheveled Draco revert back to his neat and collected form. He gave Harry a firm small smile and walked out of his magic bubble. Without turning back, he dis-apparated.

Harry just stood there, previously-lost cell phone in hand, a little lost himself on what the bloody hell had just happened. Mindlessly, he ended the spells around him with another wave of his hand and walked back out onto the street. His flat was actually just around the corner, which is why Harry had been so quick in his walking in the beginning. He walked and thought, turning over the new information.  _ Was he bent? _ Sure he had noticed a guy or two when we went out to muggle pubs, appreciated the curve of an ass or the bulge of an arm, but he also had had a steady relationship with Ginny for a few years after the war. Their breaking up had nothing to do with his sexuality but mainly due to work conflicts and growing apart. Before he knew it, he was at the door to his flat, so he let himself inside. He collapsed on the couch and stared at the phone in his hand.  _ Draco Malfoy _ . Merlin, Harry was in deep shit. 

He swiped the phone and tried his old passcode before he left for Paris, 1-1-0-8, Ginny’s birthday. It didn’t open. He wondered if Draco had known that was the significance of his old passcode. His closing remark in the letter to Draco nagged at him, and if not Ginny’s birthday… 

He typed in 0-5-0-6 and it opened. It was both predictable and slightly concerning. There weren’t many apps at all on the phone. It was just as he remembered. The photos and camera, the calendar, the phone, messages, and contacts. The rest were in a folder. His whole phone had only one screen. He opened the contacts. He had Hermione, Dudley from that one time they bumped into each other at Tesco, a few Muggleborn Aurors, and Draco Malfoy. He wanted to click it so badly, but he knew that would automatically call Malfoy and that was not something he wanted to deal with at the moment. Closing the contacts app, he opened his messages. While he still had the chat histories with most of his contacts, they were all in disuse since the day he left London. The only chat history active was at the very top, with Draco Malfoy. He clicked and scrolled through. It was mostly nauseatingly muggle and domestic with a “pick up the milk” or “can you throw a load into the laundry machine before I get back”. That in and of itself was a bit too much so Harry scrolled to the very top of the exchange to see a few texts between the two of them and a large attached file sent from Malfoy that wasn’t downloaded. He probably should have figured what it was, but his curiosity often displaced his common sense and he clicked for the image to load. After a few short moments, Harry was greeted with Malfoy’s cock, hard and leaking in Malfoy’s left hand. He was about to screech when he saw the text before. The text he had sent Malfoy: 

_ Show me what I’m doing to you. _

Harry had sent that so Malfoy had responded. He hadn’t realized he didn’t read the texts that had come before and after as he was too caught up in what the image might be. Harry read with an interesting combination of rising horror, burning curiosity, and slowly building arousal. He had initiated a sexting-type of conversation ( _ was that what they were called? _ ) with Draco Malfoy. He had taken charge and made Malfoy do things and he just waited for Malfoy to come undone. He detailed exactly what Malfoy was supposed to do with himself and then went on tangents here and there about what he’d do if he was there in person. There was another file attachment and Harry didn’t know if he should open it. His last words both terrified him and shot pangs of arousal straight to his cock: 

_ Good boy. Now come for me _ . 

Harry clicked the attachment without a second thought. He was not disappointed. It was a front camera picture. Malfoy held the phone with his right hand, his cock in his left. Strings of cum on his chest and hands and if Harry zoomed in, which he might’ve just a tiny bit, he could see there was a drop on Malfoy’s chin, just under his bottom lip, and Harry was overcome with the desire to lick it off him. Malfoy’s bottom lip was bright red between his teeth even in the shitty camera quality and he was looking away from the camera. His left hand loosely circled his spent cock, his thumb over the head like Harry had dictated earlier. It wasn’t that hard to understand what Harry was feeling with his cock all hard and uncomfortable between his legs. 

Harry gave a start. Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe he saw Malfoy in Paris, wanted to have him, and then fell in love with him along the way. Looking back to the phone, he saw that there was an attachment from Harry as well. He opened it and saw without a doubt his own dick, spent and beginning to sag, cum streaking up his chest and down his thighs. That removed any lingering suspicions that this was all an elaborate ruse from Malfoy to fuck his life up. Renewed motivation from his erection flagging a bit at seeing himself, and curiosity burning past the discomfort, Harry closed the messages app and opened the last place he could think of. The photos. 

At the bottom he saw that he had just over six hundred photos.  _ What the fuck? _ When he left he had no more than fifty or so and most were pictures from his morning runs when he saw something pretty in nature. He would have had to take at least two or three pictures a day to get to that number. Harry also remembered that he most definitely was not allowed to take pictures. They could unknowingly become incriminating and Harry must have been the stupidest Auror ever to have done this. He scrolled to the top and glazed over the nature snaps in the beginning to where he assumed his mission started. He didn’t have to guess. He clicked the first photo after the nature shots to reveal Draco Malfoy. It was covert and slightly shaky, but unmistakably Malfoy. He must have taken it when he first found Malfoy and was suspicious of him. Harry kept swiping. There were more of Malfoy in different places, so Harry must have tailed him. And then suddenly, he swiped to see Malfoy sitting across from him at a table. The sun was shining, his hair was soft and some strands fell in his face, glowing in the light, he was dressed as casually as he could ever imagine Malfoy, in a light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up. The table in front of him had two sets of plates with a half-eaten, but still delicious looking brunch spread. Malfoy had a glass of wine, half full, in front of him, but Harry’s side had a glass of water. But the real focus of the picture was Malfoy’s face; he was laughing. His head was thrown back, a flush rising up from the base of his neck. Harry then noticed that the top two buttons of Malfoy’s shirt were open, and his eyes trailed down to where the flush disappeared under the shirt fabric. Harry swallowed as he studied the picture further. This might just be that “second date” Malfoy had been on about. Harry had no doubt he had asked Malfoy out as a cover. It would definitely make much more sense to hang out at a cafe with a lover than all alone in the corner. And from the subsequent two pictures of Malfoy making a face at being caught in front of the camera and a picture of the building behind him, Harry figured this cafe offered the best unobstructed vantage point to observe the building across the street. 

But Harry had no reason to take the first picture of Malfoy. He definitely had no reason to take the second. If anything, all he needed was the last one, but he kept swiping back to look at the candid of Malfoy. He was just sitting there, laughing at something Harry had done or said, completely unbothered and unhindered and Harry  _ wanted _ . Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as he first thought when Malfoy had approached him in the alley. The fear that had gripped him was unlike any he had ever experienced. For so long he had just assumed he was straight and gone on with his life. He didn’t acknowledge when his eyes would wander and look because he never actually touched, and he figured that was alright. His childhood he spent trying not to be a “freak” and his school years he spent trying not to be killed by a maniacal villain. Being bent in any form would just add more scrutiny and put him more in the public eye which he already  _ hated _ so, so much. Was it a combination of an entirely new city where he was relatively unknown, and the fact that it was Malfoy, and that he always made rash, impulsive decisions around Malfoy?

Harry kept swiping. It soon became clear that he took less and less pictures of suspicious people and places and more and more pictures of Malfoy. Whether or not he was smiling, Malfoy was a painting. His jaw defined and angled, his nose aristocratic and a little turned up in what, as a child, he had thought as arrogant and condescending. But now, in this one picture of Malfoy talking to a waiter, a smile light on his lips as they discussed the wine menu, Harry wanted to run his fingers across the sharp edges and see if he would break skin.

He kept swiping. 

The pictures took an aesthetic, artistic turn. There were lots of pictures of Malfoy’s hair, shining in various lights. There were some of his hands holding Harry’s, highlighting the difference between Harry’s larger rough ones and Malfoy’s slender but longer ones. The next picture he stopped at was one of Harry behind Malfoy in a mirror, left hand in the waistband of Malfoy’s trousers like it was a pocket, thumb brushing across the hip bone jutting out sharp like his jaw, right hand holding the phone to take a picture. Harry’s chin was on Malfoy’s shoulder, and he was looking down at the phone screen taking the picture, mouth contorted in concentration to angle the phone correctly. Malfoy wasn’t looking at the phone, though, he was looking at Harry through the mirror, and his eyes shone with a certain emotion that scared Harry down to his very core. He knew in the sort of dissociated sense that whoever he was in the past six months had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. What he hadn’t really prepared himself for was Draco Malfoy falling in love with him as well. The next photo was the same pose, but Malfoy had angled his head away and around so that his lips were pressed against Harry’s stubble. His right hand curled around Harry’s jaw to bring it closer to his face. A ghost kiss pressed against the current Harry’s cheek as he studied the picture, and for the first time since going through his phone, Harry felt something other than lust. He  _ longed _ . He wanted not only the sex, which he was sure would be mind-blowing, but he wanted the soft kisses and the domestic moments in a home kitchen or living room, cooking dinner or curling on a loveseat in front of a fire. He wanted it all and, despite everything he thought to be true about himself up until an hour ago, he wanted it all with Draco Malfoy. Because now Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever thought about anyone but Malfoy since he was eleven years old. 

As he kept swiping, Harry thought about his next options. Draco (because there really was no point in calling him Malfoy now, was there) said he’d be at a hotel for the next week. But Harry didn’t just want to tell Draco he was alright with everything. He didn’t know who he’d become in those six months that Draco had fallen in love with, but he wanted Draco to fall in love with the Harry he was now. And so he would have to plan.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos give me serotonin:) constructive criticism is always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three days and Draco was starting to hate himself. He should’ve set a shorter time limit. He always gave too much when it came to Harry and now he had the privilege of paying the price. Twiddling his thumbs in some muggle hotel room was not how Draco had wanted to spend this week. In fact, he had wished Harry would forget that he had to leave and he and Draco could live happily in his little apartment in Paris. 

While Draco had originally fled London with his mother and father shortly after their trials, he didn’t end up buying the flat until about a year later. After the trials and his family’s acquittal, his parents had gathered the remaining Malfoy fortunes and began to travel the world to various exotic luxury destinations. While he was invited and had gone the first few times, he was incredibly lonely. Picking up muggles (no wizarding men were interested once they glanced at his arm) at local nightclubs was becoming tiring very quickly. He had always been more of a “homebody” as Harry called him later. He liked his things where he didn’t have to move them every few days, liked the idea of retreating to a place that didn’t change. He hated new things and stepping out of his comfort zone. Although he had come to learn some things were worth trying even if they were uncomfortable at first, he also learned that it was safe to keep some parts of his life and personality intact. So the next time his parents passed through Paris, he stayed behind. 

He had set apart his inheritance before he left his parents and now used this money to secure a flat. Paying the next several months of rent ahead of time, Draco had looked for a job. A job in muggle Paris preferably. After leafing through magazines and listening to his mother through floo calls, he found a designer company he approved of and immediately applied for a position in the retail section. He wanted to work his way up from the bottom and less than a decade later when he met Harry, Draco had been promoted to Assistant Chief Designer of the Paris branch. Their first “date” (Draco was well aware it wasn’t  _ really _ a date) had been to celebrate this promotion. He knew Potter had been following him for the past week as he lived his entirely non-suspicious life away from any sort of trouble or excitement. And once Draco caught him and he stumbled through an apology, they got to talking about their lives. Draco explained where his life was going at the moment and Potter had told him why the Saviour was in Paris skulking around like one of the criminals he was supposed to be catching. Once Potter had heard about his promotion, he suggested they go out for lunch to celebrate. Draco was immediately suspicious whether he himself had been cleared, but Potter was straight with him that he wanted to observe the building across the street. So they had their “first date” (as Potter had called it) at this quaint little cafe with outdoor seating and Potter paid equal attention to both him and the building behind him, which was fine by Draco, until he said something absolutely outrageous about his adjusting to life in Paris and Draco threw his head back in laughter. When he finally looked back at Potter, he had his phone out, camera pointed at Draco, eyes light with happiness and mouth open like he forgot he was in the middle of a smile. Draco made a face and Potter’s thumb clicked again. He raised his brow and Potter just smiled and shrugged, shifting to glance behind him. His face immediately went from happy to serious as he got up. He cast a helpless glance between the building and Draco so Draco made the decision for him. He hadn’t actually meant to keep contact with Potter, to him this lunch had been more to close a chapter of his life and move on with the new chapter he was thoroughly enjoying. He held out his hand for Potter’s phone and once receiving it, he quickly input his number into his contacts. With a quick smile at the Saviour he left to go pay the bill. When he glanced back at the table, Potter was gone, probably off to save the world. 

Draco really didn’t expect Potter to contact him again. He expected a goodbye and perhaps a quick dinner before he caught his flight or portkey or however Aurors traveled internationally these days to go back to London. What he did receive a week after meeting the man for lunch was an invitation via text to join him for dinner that Friday evening at a new high-end restaurant Draco had actually been meaning to visit. Draco graciously accepted and immediately began planning what he was to wear. Although it wasn’t  _ explicitly _ a date, Draco still chose the suit trousers that tightened just right around his arse and made it a little more delectable than usual. As far as he had known at the time, the Saviour was undeniably straight, but he felt bold with a rush of Gryffindor confidence.

His choices seemed to pay off because by the end of their evening Potter had Draco pushed against the door to his flat, knee between Draco’s legs, and was very enthusiastically snogging Draco’s mind out. He was most definitely lucky that night. 

But still, Draco wished for nothing more. Shagging the Saviour of the Wizarding World was most definitely one for the bucket list, and he did not delude himself into thinking it would happen again, much less become a regular occurrence. Draco soon found himself called upon for dinner and a shag several times a week and didn’t even realize they had become domestic until Draco opened his kitchen cupboard a month into this arrangement and found several unknown mugs and a bag of coffee beans next to his tin of tea leaves. Draco did not own mugs nor coffee beans. He looked down in horror to realize he was wearing a pair of boxers and one of Potter’s muggle t-shirts, one that the man had most definitely not been wearing when he had gone out with Draco the night before but had somehow ended up in Draco’s laundry and subsequently his closet. And seemingly on cue to Draco’s pending mental breakdown, the bedroom door opened and out walked a sleep-mussed Potter, naked except for a pair of wrinkled boxers, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. He passed Draco with a brush of lips to his cheek and filled up a glass of water. 

Draco was trying not to hyperventilate. 

He watched Potter fill up some sort of container with powder that smelled like the beans. He then muttered at the glass of water and as it began to steam and bubble, he poured a portion of it into the container before turning to Draco. His easy morning smile immediately turned concerned as he caught Draco’s eyes. 

“Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” Draco swallowed and shook his head. Potter looked back at the glass. “You’ve seen me do wandless magic before, right? Sorry it’s just easier than putting the kettle on. Didn’t mean to unnerve you.” Draco shook his head once more. Honestly, Potter doing wandless magic was the least of Draco’s concerns at the moment and was more of a turn-on if Draco had been in any other mood. The man in front of him looked suitably confused and concerned. 

“Potter, what are we? You’ve got mugs in my cabinet and a weird french press that I don’t own to make coffee. I don’t even drink coffee.” Potter was looking less concerned and more bemused as Draco went on. “I don’t remember the last time I haven’t had dinner with you and I’m even wearing your bloody t-shirt that isn’t even from last night!” He caught Draco’s hands in the air before they finished gesticulating. 

“That sounds a fair bit domestic to me.” Potter’s voice was calm as he spoke, hands still holding his. He had a small smile as he caught Draco’s eyes. “I kind of like domestic. What about you?”

The answer dawned on Draco almost immediately. He was not second top in his classes at Hogwarts for nothing it seems.

“Dear Merlin, we’re boyfriends now, aren’t we?” Potter looked like he was fighting off a smile as he nodded. Draco paused for only a moment to consider the implications of this and whether or not he truly wanted it. The answer was absurdly obvious. “A boyfriend sounds nice. Nothing seems to be changing.” Harry nodded. He leaned up to kiss Draco’s forehead and turned back to his contraption. He heated more water and added it to the press when Draco burst out: “Oh dear, I’ll have to stop calling you Potter now, won’t I?” And Potter, now  _ Harry _ , just laughed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos and constructive criticism! i appreciate them all so much !!

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be up soon! Comments and kudos give me serotonin:) Constructive criticism improves my writing:)


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